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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30041772">Obsession</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Ace_Anon/pseuds/The_Ace_Anon'>The_Ace_Anon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>self-indulgent ahit/apop au [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Hat in Time (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Attempted Murder, Blood and Gore, Child Abuse, Hurt No Comfort, Misgendering, Transphobia, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, abuse from the abuser's pov, stalker-ish thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:35:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,314</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30041772</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Ace_Anon/pseuds/The_Ace_Anon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Once Upon A Time</p>
<p>There was a prince and a princess</p>
<p>And they loved each other very much</p>
<p>And they should've lived happily ever after</p>
<p>Why didn't they live happily ever after?</p>
<p>(part of the crossover au between me and Darkwarfy on tumblr. Prince Logan, Prince Derek, and "Servant Girl" (aka Debrah) all belong to him)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Florist &amp; The Prince (A Hat in Time), The Prince &amp; Queen Vanessa (A Hat in Time), The Prince (A Hat in Time) &amp; Original Character(s), The Prince/Queen Vanessa (A Hat in Time)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>self-indulgent ahit/apop au [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019415</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Obsession</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Once Upon a Time</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a princess who lived in a huge castle guarded by a cruel dragon</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dragon hated the princess and constantly told her how horrible and wicked she was</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That she would never find love and be stuck with it forever</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But despite how much the dragon hated her, it never let her free</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until One Day</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A prince arrived and helped her get away from the dragon </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the princess was freed</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The prince and the princess fell in love with each other</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And decided to get married to prove their love to one another</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And they lived </span>
  <span>Happily Ever After</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The End</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>When she first meets Thea, she’s visiting West Subcon for a dinner party. Mother wanted her to be on her best behavior, even forcing her into a horribly itchy blue dress for the occasion, and so she’s kept by mother’s side at all times, so mother can “keep an eye” on her. She watches her mother talk to a few nobles, smiling whenever she’s addressed, counting down the seconds until she can leave. Then </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> shows up. She’s read many stories of princes and princesses and dragons, fairy tale after fairy tale of princesses trapped in towers and princes climbing up to save them, saving and meeting their one true love, staying together and living happily ever after. She’s fallen asleep to day dreams of her own true love one day arriving, of a prince in white, shining armor coming to her and taking her away from mother and father and loving her forever and ever. So it’s hard not to recognize a prince when he makes himself known. He’s not in white, shining armor, instead dressed in a red tunic with a long red cloak. Warm brown eyes with a hint of gold shining in them, and pretty brown freckles dotting his face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Mother scrowls when she sees him, her green eyes darkening with dislike. But she doesn’t say anything when the boy approaches, nor does she stop her daughter from leaving with him when he asks if he can show her something. The boy takes her hand, smiles brightly at her, and leads her out of the ballroom, into the gardens, where they can be alone. He looks around, making sure no one else will see, and asks her if she wants to see something cool. She nods, curious, and his hand bursts into flames. The fire is bright and big and warm, curling around his arm, dancing in the darkness, illuminating their faces. His eyes are now a bright burning gold that reminds her of the sun, his hair flicking and dancing with the flames, like it too is made of fire. It’s beautiful….and terrifying. Quietly, hesitantly, she asks if he’s allowed to do magic.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The boy looks a bit confused at the question, but says yes all the same. Slowly, shakily, she raises her arm next to the boy’s and lets her ice form. Her ice has been threatening to burst out of her chest for months now, spiking in anger when she inevitably has to push it back down again. She can always feel it under her skin, begging to grow and freeze and spread, threatening to make itself known. As it grows out of her palm, frost spirling down her arm, mother’s words echo through her mind. How this frost in her blood is a curse, a horrible thing that they need to claw out of her, she feels a burst of sickness. What is she doing? Why is she doing this? The boy is going to run and mother will find out and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span> mother will be so displeased with her this is a horrible idea just because he has fire doesn’t mean she- </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The boy asks if she can make snow. She stops, looks up at him, and sees not disgust in his eyes...but </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonder</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’s staring at the ice in her palm, looking amazed, like it’s the coolest thing he’s ever seen. She doesn’t know what to do, what to say, no one has ever looked at her, looked at something she </span>
  <em>
    <span>made</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and has been amazed. So she makes it snow. The boy </span>
  <em>
    <span>cheers</span>
  </em>
  <span>, jumps up and down excitedly, goes on a tangent about all the snowmen and snowballs they can make and all the snow days they could ever want! She can’t help but laugh at his excitement, smile at his joy, his happiness infectious. She can’t help but wonder if this is what it’s like to have friends.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Mother is upset. Mother doesn’t sound upset, but she knows she is. Her laughs are empty and cruel, her smiles cutting, her words sharp and poised like knives eager to draw blood. The only thing she doesn’t fully know...is </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> mother is so upset. Talking about how the queen and king of West Subcon are </span>
  <em>
    <span>idiots</span>
  </em>
  <span>, parading their daughter around and letting her pretend to be a prince, then expecting </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> to play too as if they need to indulge in this child’s delusions. If she was the princesses’ mother, she’d rip those clothes out of her daughter’s hands, force her to wear dresses and play her part until the silly fantasies of being a prince stopped for good. And if that wasn’t bad enough, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> they’re trying to suggest that their freak of a daughter could marry her own daughter! Father stammers that a marriage arrangement between the two countries would work out fairly well for them, that it wouldn’t be </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad to marry the princess and the prince- Mother </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams</span>
  </em>
  <span>, yells how that- that </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> isn’t a prince! Isn’t even close to being one, she’s just a child who needs a bit of reality beat into her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She frowns, trying to follow the conversation….but confused all the same. The queen and king of West Subcon don’t have a daughter, they have a son. A prince. Was mother perhaps confused by his long hair? She thinks that maybe if someone corrected mother this whole mess could be avoided, but she knows better than to speak when mother’s upset. Father, unfortunately, does not seem to have the same sense, speaking out of turn, telling mother that they really </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> need this treaty. Mother snaps, screams and yells. She feels the ice in her chest sharpen at the loud and has to fight to keep it down. The last thing she needs right now is a slip, mother is already so angry and if she’s reminded of her daughter’s presence….she doesn’t want to go back to the attic. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mother gets louder, father gets quieter, and she stays frozen. Wanting to leave but too scared to move, too scared to bring attention to herself, scared that if she does mother’s anger will turn to her instead. So she stays, listens to mother’s yells and father’s quiet protests. His attempt to reason and get through. She doesn’t understand why he keeps protesting, why he says anything at all, when mother seems to hate the very sound of his voice. Mother snaps, leaves the room and slams the door behind her, pure anger lighting up her eyes. A few weeks later, father came down with a mysterious illness. Bed-ridden and too sick to do anything but sleep until death came for him. Everyone knew. She heard the whispers, the rumors, the way they stared at mother, like she was a monster. But no one said a word, too scared that they too would become suddenly ill. Mother didn’t shed a single tear at the funeral. She didn’t either. She refuses to cry over the death of a fool.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She can barely contain her excitement as she grabs her cloak and sneaks down the window, trying to be as quiet as possible as to not alert the guards. Her ice grows eagerly inside her chest, frost spreading out from her footsteps as she runs through the forest towards the town. It only takes a few minutes of searching to find him. He’s waiting in front of the bookstore, like he always is, and she can’t help the smile that breaks onto her face when she sees him. He spots her too, smiles. She breaks into a run. He catches her with his arms, spinning her around and laughing. They simply stand there for a moment, holding each other. It’s been months since she’s seen him, mother’s plans and lessons taking up most of her time, but during her last visit to West Subcon he managed to speak to her, to whisper, to form a plan. And now here they are, weeks later, taking solace in the little time they can have together. She hugs him a little tighter, if he notices he doesn’t comment, he’s just so </span>
  <em>
    <span>warm</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>They break apart. He takes her hand, leads her into the bookstore, shows her some of his favorite books. Books about space with illustrated pictures of the stars, rambles about the moon, excited talks about law, how they work and what they do and what he wants to change when he’s king. She listens to it all, she’s never been very interested in space and the law talk goes over her head, but she loves his joy, his enthusiasm, how he taps and claps whenever he gets excited. And, when he’s finished and said all there is to say, she talks about her own stories, about the fairy tales she read and dreamed and breathed as a child, the stories of rescued princesses and true love, the illustrations of towers and lost slippers and long, long hair. She doesn’t think he gets it, not completely, but he still nods along, asks her about them, loves them because she loves them. Once they’re done, he takes her hand again and leads her around the town.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She’s been in town before, but never without guards, never without mother’s eye on her back. It's nice to be able to explore where she wants, what she wants, to listen to her prince ramble and talk without eyes on her. He shows her the bakery, leads her around the streets and stores. She loves the cookies, loves watching all the people, loves seeing all the different clothes and stores and masks. She loves watching him talk, loves how animated and excited he gets, loves asking him questions and listening to him respond, loves how happy he looks whenever she gets excited over something or shows him something new she found, happy that she’s having fun. But it’s hard not to notice how the shadows grow around him. How they twirl around his legs, pull in closer to his form, move and drift towards him whenever he’s near. How they darken their path and chill their bones. She knows about the shadows tainting his blood, tainting his fire, beating throughout his body. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She remembers the day he told her, remembers how their relationship had just been formed when he took her aside. Remembers his shaky voice and hands as he showed her, making the shadow drip and form to prove it. Remembers his voice saying that he would understand if she didn’t want to be around him anymore. Remembers her taking his hands and telling him that if he could love her with her ice, then she could love him despite the shadows growing in his soul. Remembers the relieved smile on his face. Mother wouldn’t approve, would tear him away from her if she found out. Would scream and scream until everyone knew the prince of West Subcon was tainted by shadow, wouldn’t stop screaming until he was exiled or worse. Would throw her in the attic and keep her there for seeing a shadow. But mother never approved of her prince and she’s stopped caring about what mother thinks. Besides, her prince isn’t simply shadow. He’s also fire, also warmth, also summer, and a burning brightness like that can’t be tainted in any way that matters.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s starting to get dark, the sun getting lower and lower in the darkening sky, giving way to the stars. They grab some oranges from the market stall, go up to her prince’s favorite hillside. They sit and as she takes apart the oranges he shows her some of his favorite stars, points out the constellations and helps her see them. He’s still holding her hand, hasn’t let go since he showed her around the town, and she can’t help but tighten her grip. His head is tilted up towards the sky, the stars and moon reflecting off his sparkling, golden-brown eyes that seem to almost glow in the darkness. She says it’s beautiful, and he agrees, but she’s not looking at the sky. She gets closer to him, wraps her arms around his torso, rests her head on his shoulder, smiles as he puts an arm around her shoulder and hugs her closer. The two of them sit there for a few hours, talking and staring up at the stars, passing the oranges between them. She wants to stay in this moment forever, happy and with her prince, far away from mother, laying under the night sky.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But, soon enough, it’s time to leave. She doesn’t want to go, hates it as he stands and prepares to leave, but she knows she has to. She can’t afford to be caught missing, mother would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>furious</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She gets up, stretches, watches as he leaves the remaining oranges as an offering. Giving the spirits a quick prayer before he leads her back to the castle. They sneak past the guards, his shadows concealing them, and climb back into her room. He kisses her goodbye, a quick little kiss on the forehead, and then leaves, quickly heading back to his own castle before his absence is noticed. She gets ready for bed, puts on a nightgown, slips under the covers just as mother peeks in, making sure that she’s still in the castle. She feels a bit of pride that she managed to evade mother. Mother knows that she’s been doing something, sneaking off with someone, constantly accusing her of leaving the house. But mother doesn’t know who, and she’s determined to keep it that way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s </span>
  <b>never</b>
  <span> letting mother take her prince away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She’s sitting in her room, struggling through the readings her tutors gave her, when there’s a knock at her window. Confused, she looks over to see none other than her prince looking back, shadows holding him up to the glass, him tapping rapidly on the window pane. She opens the window but before she can say anything he’s putting his head through the open space, leaning forward on the stool, eagerly proclaiming </span>
  <em>
    <span>I have a name!!!!!</span>
  </em>
  <span> It takes a second for the words to register, but once they do she can’t help the gasp and </span>
  <em>
    <span>really?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> that pushes itself out of her mouth. He nods excitedly, climbing fully into the room, his shadowy platform falling apart as he leaves it. She plops down on her bed, asks him how he found it. He paces as he talks, making animated gestures as he explains. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He tells her everything, how he was with his friend, Camila, and she was the one who gave him the idea (her skin itches at the mention of Camila, jealousy boiling in her stomach at the very idea of him talking to another woman, of him giving another girl any bit of his time, her teeth gritting and fist clenching, her ice sharpening. He doesn’t notice, he never notices), how he was telling her about what his tutors had been teaching him and somehow the name Theodore came up, how Cam made a joke about it being the stuffiest name in existence, how he laughed and said, in defense of the name, that some shortened it, and then it hit him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The prince steps back, spreads out his arms as wide as he can, as if showing something off, and says as loudly as he can without alerting the guards: Thea! He smiles brightly at her, happy and proud. She claps for him, says it’s a great name, fits him perfectly! He brightens, laughs, bows as if finishing a performance, thanks her. Thea plops down next to her, looks away as he talks about how….nice it is to finally have a name, to have something to give people when they ask for it, to finally have a name that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> and makes </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> happy. She smiles at him, says she thinks it’s a wonderful name, that it’s perfect for him and she’s glad it makes him happy, making sure to use his new name in her response, testing it out. He smiles at her, thanks her again, then looks away, suddenly bashful, apologizes for breaking into her room unannounced. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She laughs, says it’s fine, that she’s happy to see him again, she wasn’t doing anything important before he broke in anyways, asks who else knows his name. He curls up a bit at the question, says Cam and….maybe his parents. She asks what he means by maybe, and he explains that, well, his father was busy when Thea told him, that he doesn’t think the king was actually listening, tells her how he just dismissed him like he hadn’t just told him the most important thing a person can have. And his mother...his mother clearly didn’t care, asked if that was all when he told her, how he could only mumble “yes that’s all, I’m sorry for bothering you” before quickly leaving. And of course, he’ll have to remind them later so they can make the official announcement, so he knows they’ll know then….but it still hurts. She goes quiet, looks away, says well….who needs their attention anyways? And at least he has her to clap and cheer for him when no one else will. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He gives her a small smile, agrees, then quickly changes the subject. Straightens up and asks what she was doing before he barged in. She hums, says it wasn’t super exciting, just some reading her tutors gave her, before it hits her that this is the </span>
  <em>
    <span>first</span>
  </em>
  <span> time Thea has really been in her room. Sure he’s been here before, but every other time he’s had to quickly leave, this time he’s sitting on her bed talking to her and- She quickly turns to him and excitedly asks if he’d like to see her book collection. He looks a little caught off guard by the sudden change in subject, but quickly recovers, says he’d love to see it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She brightens, runs to the bookshelf, pulls out the etiquette and law books mother forced her to read, and grabs the fairy-tales hidden behind them. She’s told him about the tales, talked to him for hours about rumpelstiltskin and rapunzel and the frog prince and every other story she could find. But there’s something different about giving him her personal copies. About watching him carefully flip through the worn and dog-eared pages, to open the books and see her childhood doodles and scribbles, to watch as he drifts a finger over the illustrations that filled her dreams as a child. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She explains the tales to him again as he slowly reads through him, about how it all ties together and what it means and what it meant to her when she was younger. He listens to it all, looking genuinely interested in all of it, asking her questions and letting her talk for as long as she wants. She talks and talks, not paying any attention to the time or the growing pile of books as they slowly read through them all, but comes to a stumbling halt when she realizes she’s been rambling. Her face heats up as she apologies for going on for so long, letting go of the book and looking away from the prince, feeling embarrassed for going on for so long and </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t mother teach me not to ramble</span>
  </em>
  <span>? She stiffens when he reaches for her hand, watches as he takes it in his own and makes her look at him. He gives her a soft smile, says he doesn’t mind, he actually rather enjoys listening to her talk. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She relaxes a bit, asks really? He doesn’t mind how long she went on? Thea laughs, says if she can listen to him talk about space and snakes for hours, then the least he can do is listen to her when she wants to talk. Besides, he says, he really does enjoy listening to her talk, he loves how happy she gets when she talks about it, loves hearing the pure joy in her voice, says he could listen to her talk about fairy tales for hours and wouldn’t mind a bit. Her face heats up again, but for a completely different reason this time. She stammers out a thanks, trying to keep her voice even and hide how flustered she is. She fails miserably. Thea huffs out another laugh and gently moves her into her lap, hugging and cuddling her from behind. Asks if she’d like to continue. Wordlessly, she picks up the book again and composes herself enough to speak, going through the fairy tales with her prince holding her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The moment Thea moves in, everything starts to go wrong. Mother hates him, hates the very idea of him coming into the castle, but she no longer has a choice in the matter. The prince is moving in, whether mother wants him to or not. The moments before his arrival are horrible, mother making pointed remarks, her words like poisoned daggers. Insist that the “boy” has already cheated on her or is at least planning too, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> only doing this to make </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> parents happy, questioning why </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, much less a wanna-be prince, would want to spend time with her. She does her best to ignore mother, to avoid her, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>wait</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes her as she spots his carriage pulling up to the castle gates. She runs to him as he gets off, almost knocking him over and she hugs him. He laughs, hugs her back, says it’s nice to see her again, says he missed her. She hugs him tighter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She loves showing him around the castle, taking his arm and dragging him throughout all the rooms, showing him the study and the kitchen and the library. She talks as she guides him, telling her about all the rooms and the staff and her life here, he listens to every word. Once she’s done with her little impromptu tour, she finally shows him his own room. They both know he’s never going to sleep in it, but it’s the thought that counts. She helps him move in, putting away his clothes and unpacking his books. He pushes the bed into a corner, takes all the blankets and pillows off of it, and plops them down in front of the fireplace, declaring it as His Pile. They sit in the pile as he shows her some of his favorite books, all of them well loved and worn down from use, he talks to her about them and even lets her borrow a few. She gives him a kiss on the cheek as thanks. That night, she watches as he introduces himself to mother, never having formally told her his name. Mother doesn’t say a word, just glares at him until he awkwardly walks away. Her frosty eyes watch him the entire night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The following days are a battle. Mother always seems to have something to say about her prince. Always has some comment to snap and growl whenever he so much as looks at her, mother’s glare burning through her head whenever she gets anywhere near the prince. She tries to enjoy having him over. A few days after he arrives when they both have a bit of time to kill she tries to teach him to bake, try being the keyword here. Thea knows nothing about baking, is an absolute disaster in the kitchen. His first attempt is a burned, crumbled mess that they both laugh over, covered in flour and dough and icing. After a few days, he finally makes something that </span>
  <em>
    <span>looks</span>
  </em>
  <span> editable. It tastes horrible, they eat every bite, giggling at the attempt. She loves his laugh, a loud, bright cackle that seems to fill the entire room with laughter, loves baking with him, loves being with him without the fear of getting caught. But mother ruins it all. Walks by and snaps about how obnoxious that cackle is, </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t anyone ever teach that “boy” to laugh properly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, scolds her for wasting time with Thea when she should be studying.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He tries to spend as much time as he can with her, despite mother’s comments. Talks to her about books and cooking and the little sewing projects he’s started. He gives her his first creation, a small sheep with a crown, they name it Prince Sheep. She hides it in her room where mother won’t find it. He does his best to be there for it, but it doesn’t take long for mother’s criticisms to wear her down. Mother finds fault with his every little action, snaps at him if he so much as walks wrong, frosty eyes constantly searching for any slip-up she can use, constantly whispering about how he’s going to leave her and really she should just drop the relationship now. It takes a toll on her, has her crying alone in her room. Her prince finds her and she can’t help but scream at him, can’t help but cry and sob as her ice sharpens and prickles beneath her skin, can’t help but break as the comments and the watching and the frost finally makes her crack. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He puts her back together, holds her as she cries, whispers words of comfort into her ear and warms her until the sobs turn into hiccups. He puts his forehead against hers, promises that he won’t let mother drive him away, promises that he’ll stay with her, promises that he won’t leave. She notices the bruises on his arms, on his cheek, and can’t help but feel a pang of guilt, can’t help but apologize. He smiles, gives her a small kiss on the forehead, says he doesn’t mind, that they don’t even hurt, that it’s not her fault, she was just upset. He holds her the entire night, lets her fall asleep in his arms, warms her despite the ice in her chest. And he stays, kisses her and holds her and laughs with her even as the comments grow worse, even as the stares continue, even as mother’s rage grows. Then one day, it all goes wrong.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mother comes storming into her room, slaps him, screams at him for tainting her daughter, threatens to kick him out, to send him running back to his parents, forces him out of her room despite her screams and protests. She grabs mother’s arm and </span>
  <em>
    <span>demands</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know what she’s doing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> she’s doing this to her. And then, mother does something she’s never done before. Mother turns to her, and </span>
  <b>
    <em>smiles</em>
  </b>
  <span>. She freezes, gaping at mother with a look of pure horror, scared to know what could make mother </span>
  <em>
    <span>smile</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The grin grows at her horrified expression and mother moves in closer as she whispers </span>
  <em>
    <span>I know about the shadows</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Mother says she knows he’s tainted, says she caught him moving the shadows, saw how they curl around his legs and arms. Says she has a choice. Either she breaks up with him, or mother outs him and has him executed. She feels sick, feels the ice spike and sharpen, feels the frost spread under her skin. There’s only one possible option.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She agrees to break up with Thea. Mother smiles, says perfect, that she expects him to be out of the castle by tomorrow, leaves with a pleased grin on her face. She watches mother leave with cold, red eyes. Frost spreads out from her clenched fist. A few minutes later, the prince sneaks back into the room, asks her what happened, if everything’s ok, expression anxious, shadows dripping and shaking. She looks at him for a moment, before smiling and saying that everything’s fine, mother was just upset again. He glances at the door, seeming unconvinced, asks if she thinks it safe for them to sleep together, says maybe he should just sleep in his own room tonight. She grabs his arm, doing her best to not let the frost spread onto his skin, tells him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay</span>
  </em>
  <span>, please. He smiles at her, gives her a soft kiss on the head, and promises to stay. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That night, she sits in their bed while he sleeps, watching his chest slowly move and can’t help but notice how peaceful his face looks. Imagines that same face with wide glassy eyes, red dripping out of the mouth, chest no longer moving, surrounded in a pool of blood. Imagines that same face with tear-filled eyes, mouth asking why, chest heaving, slowly walking out of her life. Imagines mother’s hand on her shoulder, imagines her sharp smile. There’s only one possible option. She lets the ice spread, lets it grow in mother’s room, lets the temperature drop and drop, lets the cold leach the warmth from her body, lets it turn her skin blue, lets snowflakes fall in her hair and frost grow on her skin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next morning, mother is found dead. Frozen to death in her bed. Everyone knows, she can tell by the way they stare at her, can tell by the quiet rumors they think she can’t hear. But no one can prove anything and no one dares to speak up. No one liked mother very much anyway. At the age of 18, she’s crowned queen. She knows what they all think, sees it in their eyes, in the way they freeze in fear whenever she’s around. But despite what they believe, </span>
  <b>she didn’t do it for the crown</b>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thea doesn’t believe any of the rumors, refuses to even listen to them, and she loves him for it. Loves how her sweet prince refuses to believe she would ever commit such an act, loves how he even tries to comfort and check up on her, loves how he stays by her side to make sure she’s ok. Mother’s funeral is a quick affair, she refuses to give an eulogy on account of “being far too upset to speak”. She doubts she could get through a recounting of how much she loved mother without throwing up. It’s nice for a while, to have her prince nearby at all times, doing his best to dote on her while she’s “recovering from her grief”. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But over time….he begins to drift. Starts spending time away from her, starts staying up late and forgetting to come to bed, starts leaving the castle. She hates it, despises it whenever he leaves, hates the emptiness that sets in, hates how cold it feels without him, hates not knowing what he’s doing or who he’s with, hates not knowing if he’s truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore. One day she just can’t take it anymore, yanks him away as he goes to leave, begs him to please </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay</span>
  </em>
  <span>, tells him she feels abandoned, like he doesn’t love her anymore, that he’s leaving her for another. He hugs her, promises that he’d never leave her, says that he didn’t realize how much his outings upset her, says he’ll stay as long as she needs him too. Her prince holds her and she tightens her grip.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She loves being able to use her magic as she pleases now. Mother is gone and her prince doesn’t mind, so there’s no one to stop her from letting frost and ice spread out from her palm, no one to scream at her as she lets crystal grow over wooden tables and stone walls. Thea tries to help her learn how to use it, knowing that she was never allowed to use it before, and she tries to learn, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but the spirals of frost wrapping around his arm looks so </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and not being able to control it is such a nice excuse. So she has…”slip-ups”, times where she’ll be holding her prince and frost slips out onto his clothes or his skin, times where she’ll watch snowflakes freckle his hair as he sleeps, leaving the tips of his fingers a cool blue. Over time the slip-ups become less purposeful and more….emotional, but she can’t help it! It’s not her fault if her emotions peak a little, if she’s holding onto Thea’s arm and he smiles at another and her ice bursts out, causing him to jerk and hiss in pain, freezing her handprint into his skin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Can’t help it if he leaves and she panics, ice forming and spiking around her, can’t help it if her panic turns to anger when he returns, can’t help it if she freezes his arm solid while she demands to know where he was, why he was gone for so long, who was he with, if he’s cheating on her, if he’s going to </span>
  <b>leave her</b>
  <span>. Can’t help if it grows even as he reassures her that he just left for a walk, that he’d never cheat on her, that he’d never leave her, that he’s so sorry and he didn’t know how much it would’ve upset her and he’s sorry, he won’t do it again, he promises. Can’t help it if it spreads even as he holds her and she holds him back, can’t help if it covers his chest in sheets of ice and frost as she tightens her grip. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her prince doesn’t try to leave the house anymore after that, only asking permission to do so every now and then, never getting upset when she tells him no, that she needs him with her a little bit longer, that she can’t stand to watch him leave even if it’s only for a little while. The slip-ups become more common. She loves to paint his cheek with frost and watch as the crystals form beautiful swirls on his skin, loves to hold him and leave arcs of frost and snow on his back and in his hair, turning the reddish-brown strands white. Loves how quickly he learns as she leaves imprints of ice and purple bruises whenever he speaks to another woman, loves how quickly his eyes become hers and hers alone. Loves how he never complains, even as the ice grows and his warmth starts to dwindle, even as his body shakes and shivers as he holds her. Loves how he still smiles at her despite how tired he looks, despite how dull his once-bright eyes have become. Her prince isn’t warm anymore, his fire nothing more than a pathetic puff of smoke, but it’s alright, she can be plenty warm for the both of them. She loves how he never speaks out against her….but then one day, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They’re in her room when he approaches her, body shaky, eyes nervous, his smile more scared than bright. She’s getting ready for bed, humming to herself, watching him out of the corner of her eye, watching as he asks if he can speak to her. She turns to him, waiting. Thea looks away, clasps his hands together, and speaks. His words are quiet yet clear, gently asking if, perhaps, she could stop freezing him. The question has her ice spiking, her eyes lighting up with a hue of red. He notices, quickly says that he doesn’t mean he wants her to stop using her magic completely, that he’s not upset, he would just like it if she could stop making it snow while he sleeps, that he’s worried if she freezes his arm too much it could really hurt him. Anxious rambles fall out of his mouth, explanations and reasonings, taking slow steps away from her, she doesn’t hear any of it. All she hears is that he wants her to stop, that he’s grown tired of her ice, tired of her cold, that the only person who ever looked at her ice without disgust is </span>
  <em>
    <span>gone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The ice sharpens. She hears her voice ask if he’s telling her to stop using magic?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stammers, restates that no he’s not, he promises he’s not, if they could just maybe set boundaries- She doesn’t fully know what happens next, doesn’t remember anything but red and screamed words tearing themselves out of her mouth, </span>
  <em>
    <span>demanding</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know if he wants her to stop using magic, if he’s grown tired of it, if he doesn’t love it anymore, if he doesn’t love </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore, asking what right he think </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> has to tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> to stop using magic when </span>
  <b>he’s</b>
  <span> the one tainted and ruined by shadow. That if anyone has the right to tell the other to stop practicing magic it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he’s LUCKY that she’s willing to tolerate his shadows and his taint and his ruin, LUCKY that she hasn’t kicked him out or had him killed like mother would have, how she can’t believe after putting up with his shadows this entire time he’s daring to ask her to stop her magic use, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>YOU’RE JUST LIKE MOTHER- </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She blinks and then she’s holding his left arm in an iron-tight grip, ice and frost spiking out from her skin, covering his entire arm, working its way down his torso and up his neck, his body shaking horribly, lips blue, his partly frozen right hand holding onto her wrist. He’s kneeled in front of her, head down, sobbing, tears frozen to his cheeks, numb lips slurring and stammering apologizes. He says he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to upset her, he’s sorry, she’s right he is lucky, he’s sorry, he loves her very much, he’s sorry, he won’t do it again, he’s sorry. Ice spikes out from around her feet, the room destroyed and frozen. He’s bleeding a little from where it cut him, painting the crystals red. She watches him for a moment, watches him shake and sob, watches as the ice makes its way down his chest, up his throat, watches as his words start to slur together. She could stay here, stay and like the ice cover him completely, let it surround and trap him, see what he thinks about her magic </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, she lets him go, breaks her hand out from the ice sealing it to his arm. He looks at her, eyes red, skin pale and blue. She looks back at him and tells him to get the fuck out of her room, voice cold and filled with ice. He quickly leaves, steps clumsy and unfocused, body still shaking. She watches him leave, turns back to the room once he’s gone, looks at the frozen-solid bed, the ice covering everything. She sighs, melts it, and goes to sleep. The next day, he approaches her again, tries to ask if she’s doing ok, if she slept well. She doesn’t answer, doesn’t even acknowledge him. He doesn’t want anything to do with her ice? Fine, she doesn’t care. In fact, she doesn’t care so much that she won’t give him </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> part of her, just so she doesn’t bother him. It takes him a few more attempts to realize what’s happening, to back off, it takes an entire day for the apologizes to start. For him to kneel in front of her again and beg for forgiveness, to promise that he won’t do it again, that he doesn’t hate her, that he doesn’t hate her ice, that he’s sorry. The ice in her chest softens a bit as he starts to cry. She sits down next to him, gathers him in her arms and hugs him, says it’s ok, she forgives him, gives a soft kiss to the side of his head as he sobs in her arms. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She could never stay mad at her prince.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She loves her prince, loves his fluffy auburn hair, loves how he’s hers and hers alone </span>
  <span>finally something that’s utterly and truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She loves the quiet nights with him, when he remembers to come to bed on his own, when he cuddles up with her and she gets to hold him, arms wrapped tight around his chest, feeling that quiet beating warmth inside of him. </span>
  <span>She loves the nights where she has to go find him less, those nights where he’s working and wants to continue instead of rest. It’s never too hard to drag him back to bed, at least not anymore, he knows better than to protest.</span>
  <span> She loves watching him sleep, loves how peaceful he looks, how almost anything could happen to him and he’d just keep sleeping...one way or another. She tightens her hold. </span>
  <span>She puts a hand on his cheek, watches as frost spreads over warm skin, as snowflakes dot his hair. He frowns slightly, mumbles, pushes himself back into her, as if searching for warmth that isn’t there. She lets her head fall back onto the pillow, drifting off as she lazily traces patterns into his chest. He never stops shivering.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>She loves the mornings too. Loves slowly waking up to see him still there, sunlight resting on his skin. She loves to pull him close, to bury her face in his neck and hair, to take in his sweet smell of pine trees and sunflowers, to feel him move and yawn as he gives her a groggy “good morning”. Loves to giggle, give him a kiss to the temple and a good morning of her own. As much as she loves laying in bed, holding him, listening to him try to wake up and not just pass out again, it never takes her long to get up. Mother always wanted her to be quick in the mornings and the habit never left her. It doesn’t take her long to get ready, it takes her prince a bit longer. He’s still in bed when she finishes, face buried in his pillow, groaning. She pulls off the blanket, despite his slurred complaining, and a few seconds later he sits up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. </span>
  <span>He doesn’t say anything about the bits of snow still in his hair, about the frost still covering his skin, just melts them and gets out of bed. His quiet makes her smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>But, unfortunately, her prince is still Thea. And sometimes Thea likes to ask if he can leave the castle. Most of the time, she says no, says she wants him to stay with her, and so he does. But sometimes, if she’s in a good mood, she’ll let him leave. He always brightens up at that, trying and failing to not look too happy, thanks her before leaving. She watches him go, trying to ignore the creeping feeling in her gut, whispering that he’s no longer </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span> when he leaves. Sometimes, as he goes, she considers following him, watching where he goes and who he talks to, to make sure he’s not being unfateful. But, despite how much she wishes she didn’t, she has work that doesn’t involve her prince, and the idea of sending someone else to follow him, to watch and see his every move, makes her sick. So, she works, while he’s in town, in the sun, away from her. He always makes sure to come back before evening, always returns before the sun leaves the sky, kisses her on the cheek as a hello, tells her about what he did as they eat. He’s always so careful…...until one day, he isn’t. Until one day, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>late</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The sun has gone down, evening already well on its way, and her prince has yet to return. She paces the halls as she stressed, wondering where he could be, what could possibly keep him this late…..</span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span> could possibly keep him this late. With every second that passes it’s hard not to feel like he’s slipping out of her grip, that he’s no longer </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s easy to turn her worry into anger when he finally returns. She demands to know where he’s been, why he was gone for so long, what was he doing, does he know how </span>
  <em>
    <span>worried</span>
  </em>
  <span> she was, was he </span>
  <b>cheating</b>
  <span> on her? The ice in her chest sharpens as she questions him, as he slowly approaches and promises that he isn’t cheating, he just lost track of time, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The ice spikes around her, frost spreading across the floor, snow blowing around them as she </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams</span>
  </em>
  <span> and tries to make herself heard over the voice in her head that insists that he’s </span>
  <b>
    <em>lying</em>
  </b>
  <span>. He rushes forward and holds her, even as snow dyes his hair white, even as wind howls around them and frost covers his skin and ice forms on his clothes. She screams into his chest, holds him so tightly it hurts, because he doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>like her’s anymore and she </span>
  <b>needs</b>
  <span> him to be hers. She screams until she can’t anymore, until she’s just sobbing in his arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He comforts her, holds her tightly and promises that he loves her, that it won’t happen again, that he won’t leave her. She doesn’t respond, just stays in his arms and listens to his voice, sweet words that may be lies, she can’t tell. There’s a weak, fluttering warmth in his chest, drained of all it has but still trying to give her more. It’s pointless, the ice in her chest quickly sucking up any warmth she’s given, but she appreciates it all the same. He helps her to bed, tucks her in and gives her a quick kiss on the head, asks if she wants him to sleep somewhere else tonight. She grabs his arm, ignores his small flinch, and tells him to please </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He wordlessly gets into the bed with her, hugs her from behind and cuddles her. It doesn’t take her long to fall asleep. After that, it takes him a very long time to ask to leave the house again. It takes her even longer to start saying yes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He never stays out that late again, always makes sure to come back well before the sunsets, always makes sure to find her in the castle and let her know he’s returned. He spends as much time with her as he can, makes sure she knows she’s loved and wanted, talks to her and cuddles her and gives her all the fire he has, but she can’t help the clawing feeling in her stomach. The feeling that he’s no longer hers, that he’s been stolen from her, that everytime he leaves the castle he’s seeing another and one day he’s going to leave and never come back. One night, she finds herself unable to sleep, the crawling feeling keeping her wide awake. She watches her prince sleep, watches the slow rise and fall of his cheat, caresses his cheek as she tries to fight the feeling back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She loves him and she knows he’s his, that they’ll only have each other and no one else, that they only </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> each other. But if there was only some way to prove it to the crawling, to the others who watch her prince, who try to </span>
  <em>
    <span>steal</span>
  </em>
  <span> him from her, to keep those- those </span>
  <b>bitches</b>
  <span> away from what’s rightfully </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She runs a hand through his pretty auburn locks. A beautiful color but so different from her own...she watches him sleep for a bit longer, before she gets out of bed. Heads into the hallway, into a closet where she knows the servants keep the cleaning fluids, grabs what she needs, returns and gets to work.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Her prince doesn’t notice anything when he wakes up, yawning and pushing his curls out of his eyes, giving her a sleepy “good morning” as he sits up and stretches. She returns his good morning, already bathed and dressed, hair tied back in a neat ponytail. She thinks she did a rather good job, the blond locks much different than his natural color but a nice chance, a clear sign that the two of them are connected. Her prince seems to have a different opinion as he glances at the mirror, only to do a double take, wide eyes staring at his hair. He leans in closer to his reflection, runs a hand through the strands as if in disbelief, asks if she dyed his hair, sounding upset. Her heart sinks, her fists clenching as she realizes he doesn’t like it. She quietly mutters that she thought he’d like it if they matched, that she wanted to surprise him, that she-she didn’t realize he wouldn’t like it. The ice grows and spikes around her feet, spreading almost as fast as the hole in her stomach.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Her prince freezes, stares as the ice spreads, quickly rushes forward and takes her hand. Says that he doesn’t mind, he was just surprised, he’s not mad. She sniffs, wipes a tear from her eye, her voice cracks a little as she asks “really?”. He says yes, it’s fine, he doesn’t mind matching with her, just...maybe she could warn him next time. She laughs a little, the ice calming and melting, says she’ll try. He gives her a small smile, thanks her, and moves away to get ready for the day. She watches as he slips on his binder and clothes, watches as he pointedly avoids looking at his reflection, watches as he forgoes his normal cloak for a cloak with a hood. She can tell he hates it, by the way he ties it back and tries to hide it, by the way he glares at it whenever it’s forced into his vision. But she appreciates his lie, his willingness to put up with it, and can’t help the burst of happiness whenever she looks over and sees it. Her prince, with her hair color, a beautiful amalgamation of their appearances. Undeniable proof that he’s hers and hers alone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She hates Helsoner. In fact, she’s fairly certain this is the worst country on the planet. A horrible country with horrible laws and horrible customs and horrible room arrangements. Her prince tries to cheer her up, says that at least they can visit each other. She glares at him until he gets the message and stops. They meet the prince, currently ruling as the old king is in jail, and she finds even more reasons to hate this shitty country. Prince Logan is an impudent </span>
  <em>
    <span>brat</span>
  </em>
  <span> who can’t even bother to say their names right (literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one</span>
  </em>
  <span> says Vanessa as “Va-neesa”). His husband also happens to be visiting and she’s not sure if she should feel bad for the poor soul who had to marry this mess, or call them an idiot for looking at this asshole and deciding “ah yes, a good husband”. They had to come over to discuss trade arrangements, “for the good of the country”, but she’s regretting her decision every second she’s forced to spend here. Even her prince doesn’t like it, she can tell by the way he’s constantly tugging at his collar and cuffs, and how he freezes in shock when he realizes just how </span>
  <em>
    <span>dry</span>
  </em>
  <span> the bread here is. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Prince Derek is at least much more polite than their bitch of a husband, calling them by their actual names and not constantly making snarky remarks unlike </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They’re not friendly, simply that formal politeness you do when you need to be nice to someone but also don’t want to be around them. She doesn’t care, friendliness wastes time and she just wants to get this mess over with so she can go back to Subcon, where she’s allowed to sleep in the same fucking room as the man she plans to marry. She does most of the talking, her prince stepping in every now and then to calm things down whenever they get heated, always the diplomat. Then, once they’re done for the day, they go back to their </span>
  <em>
    <span>two separate rooms</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The ice in her chest spikes whenever she thinks about it, threatening to slip out and spread. Which wouldn’t go well, as Helsoner forbids magic use, another reason why this is the shitest country on the planet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>But there’s no one to stop her from letting her ice free in private. So she lets ice and frost spread over the walls as she rants and raves to her prince about how much she hates this country and what that bitch Prince Logan said to her, sometimes turning her frustration onto him as she screams about how </span>
  <em>
    <span>unfair</span>
  </em>
  <span> it is that they can’t even sleep in the same bed. He doesn’t mind, just comforts her and lets her scream and freeze and get it all out. Makes sure that she’s ok and calmed before he leaves the room to melt his arm, well-hidden under his cloak so no one will realize she’s been using magic. She’s quiet as she watches him leave, wanting him to stay but knowing that he’s not allowed too. His hair is back to normal now, having grown back to it’s normal auburn with only a few remnants of the blond. She misses it, but her prince clearly doesn’t, seeming much happier now that it's back to normal. She wonders what her chances are of convincing him to wear green for once. She sighs, melts all the ice, and goes to bed, alone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The next day, something is clearly wrong with her prince. He’s jumpy and tense, clearly trying to avoid the Helsoner prince and looking….less than pleased when said prince suddenly starts accompanying him on his walks. She doesn’t like it, she’s sure the brat is talking shit about her to her prince, trying to convince him to leave her. But whenever she talks to him about not letting the other prince accompany him, he responds with how it’d be “rude” to tell the other to go away and how the walks are actually rather nice with his input. She considers </span>
  <em>
    <span>forcing</span>
  </em>
  <span> him to stop the walks, especially after Prince Logan catches her glaring at him during one of the walks and </span>
  <em>
    <span>flips her off</span>
  </em>
  <span> while her prince isn’t looking. But it turns out she doesn’t have to do a thing, because one day the walks stop. In fact, so does her prince’s talks with the helsoner, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> talks with </span>
  <em>
    <span>either</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the princes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Almost out of nowhere, her prince starts avoiding them like the plague. Clearly no longer worried about being rude or subtle as he spends as much time as he possibly can with her, sometimes even using her as a shield so he doesn't have to talk to one of the other princes. She has no idea what happened, can’t even get it out of him with how jumpy and anxious he gets whenever she speaks to him, but she doesn’t particularly mind. It’s rather nice to have him constantly around, hovering nearby, even if it’s only from a sudden burst of anxiety. It’s almost disappointing when he calms down enough to be away from her again. It’s even more disappointing when he starts actively spending time with them, taking advantage of their different rooms to hang out with them at night. She fills with rage when she realizes he’s spending time with that </span>
  <em>
    <span>servant girl</span>
  </em>
  <span> too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Prince Logan’s personal attendant, who she’s sure attends him in more ways than one and trying to do the same to </span>
  <b>
    <em>her</em>
  </b>
  <span> prince. The bitch talks to him when neither of them think she’s watching, exchanging little whispers and small laughs. She gets him alone as quickly as she can, demands to know if he’s cheating on her with that servant girl. He quickly reassures her that he’s not, that “Debrah’s” just a friend, clearly </span>
  <em>
    <span>lying</span>
  </em>
  <span> as he’s already on a first name basis with her. She doesn’t let him leave until he </span>
  <b>knows</b>
  <span> that he’s not allowed to be anywhere near the servant. The whispers stop, the little conversations stop, the little bitch doesn’t even try to serve him anymore, staying far away from both of them. He’s still spending time with the princes, she sometimes spots him in the library talking to Prince Logan or sees him outside with them (talking about soup for some odd reason). But as long as that servant stays away from </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> prince she doesn’t care.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She finds her prince in the library, hanging out with the Helsoner and Borna princes. She’s been looking all over the castle for him, wanting to know where he is and why he isn’t with her. And now here he is, spending time with someone else and with that servant girl nearby….it’s a little hard not to be angry. She tries to pull him away, asking him if she can talk to him alone. He lets her, saying bye to the others, and is about to leave with her when she hears Prince Logan call her a bitch under his breath. She whips around to glare at him, asks him what the hell he just called her. He glares right back at her, unblinking, and says he just called her a bitch, out loud for all to hear. Her prince looks deeply upset and she can’t help but feel a bit of joy as she realizes that this is it, he’s going to end the friendship. And then Prince Logan puts on a face of mock confusion, asks if that’s not a compliment in Subcon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She stares at him, can only ask what the fuck he’s talking about. He replies with how bitch is actually a </span>
  <em>
    <span>compliment</span>
  </em>
  <span> in Helsoner, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>complimenting</span>
  </em>
  <span> her, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>sooo</span>
  </em>
  <span> sorry that he called her that he had </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> idea it wasn’t a compliment in Subcon. His voice is dripping with sarcasm and fake sympathy, an expression of horribly faked shock placed on his face. Only an idiot would believe it. Her prince, of course, believes the other right away. Says really? That he didn’t know that. Prince Logan nods sagely and she hates him even more, says that it’s a common complement in Helsoner and he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> surprised that she didn’t know that, says he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span> she didn’t realize he was trying to be nice. She glares at him, grip on her prince’s arm tightening until she hears him hiss in pain, grits her teeth and says it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, then leaves with her prince as quickly as she can. She hates this stupid country.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Her prince is talking to another woman. She was walking through the town, having decided to finally follow him and see what he does while in town, and watched as he entered the flower shop. And now he’s talking to another woman. She recognized her instantly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Camila</span>
  </em>
  <span>, her prince’s old friend that she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> he left in West Subcon but now she’s back and talking to </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> prince and now he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>giving her a flower</span>
  </em>
  <span> that she saw him pick while in Helsoner and- there’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>plop </span>
  </em>
  <span>of water dripping on stone and it takes her a moment to realize she’s crying. She can only watch as the two of them talk, as the flower springs to life in the florist’s hand and they laugh. There’s a horrible, aching pain in her chest, and she can’t help but wonder if this is what heartbreak feels like. She’s lost him, her prince is </span>
  <em>
    <span>gone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the only one who ever cared about her is gone</span>
  <em>
    <span>,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the only one who ever </span>
  <b>loved</b>
  <span> her is gone. She tried to keep hold of him and she tried to keep everyone else away and she tried to keep him safe in her arms and her arms alone but now he’s been stolen from her, </span>
  <b>
    <em>taken</em>
  </b>
  <span> from her, ripped away with no warning or afterthought, left alone with no one and nothing but a kingdom she doesn’t even want.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She can’t breathe, can’t move, she feels frozen, stuck as she watches it all play out. She can’t stay here, can’t be here, has to leave, she can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>watch this</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore, she can’t watch as the only person who ever gave a shit about her is stolen from her. She runs back to the castle, back to her room, buries her face in her hands and </span>
  <b>
    <em>screams</em>
  </b>
  <span>. The door opens. She knows who it is before he even says a word. He stands in the doorway for a moment before he takes a few steps forward, asks what’s wrong. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>snaps</span>
  </em>
  <span>, whips around and slaps him. Screams at him, tells him she saw him with Camila, that he’s been cheating on her this entire time. He looks horrified, tries to tell her that’s not at all what’s going on, but she saw and she knows too much to listen to him anymore. She screams and refuses to listen and sobs and ice grows around her and she wants to break, she wants to throw him out the window, she wants to break </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she wants to break </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> and tear </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> to shreds and make sure no one ever goes anywhere near him again and she wants him to be hers and no one else's and she just wants him to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>her prince </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>again</em>
  </b>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Ice bursts out and pins him to the wall and he stammers, trying desperately to calm her down, to tell her it’s ok, but it’s NOT. </span>
  <b>Nothing’s</b>
  <span> ok it’s all wrong wrong wrong and he’s not even </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore and she can’t let him leave not now not ever but it’s all broken and- and- and she can fix this. She watches him struggle, watches the upset and desperate expression on his face, watches as he apologies and promises that Cam’s just a friend and he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not cheating on you Vanessa I </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>promise</em>
  </b>
  <span>. She shakes as she thinks that perhaps….perhaps he isn’t broken, perhaps he isn’t completely lost, perhaps it’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> that’s trying to leave but </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone else</span>
  </em>
  <span> trying to steal him from her and they’re winning and she won’t let them win. She wants him to be hers forever and ever, he doesn’t need to leave the castle or go outside or see other people or feel the sun or laugh or smile or eat, he just needs to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span> and she’s going to </span>
  <b>make</b>
  <span> him hers if it kills </span>
  <span>him</span>
  <span> her. He’s going to be hers, whether he wants to or </span>
  <b>not</b>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The ice releases him. She grabs his wrist. Drags him through the halls. Doesn’t listen to his </span>
  <em>
    <span>excuses</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He doesn’t question where they’re going, doesn’t ask what’s happening as she drags him, not until they go into the cellar. She stops in front of the hidden room, the one she found as a child. His words falter, stumbling into nothing, seeming shaken and confused as she stares at the wall. She pushes one of the brinks in, watches as the door creaks open. She drags him inside. Tells him to stand in front of the wall. He looks confused, and scared, but unwilling to upset her further, and so he stands in front of the wall. She places a single hand on the wall next to her. A chain of ice forms out of the wall and clicks around his wrist. He pulls at it but another quickly forms and clicks around his other wrist, and then another, and another, and another, until he’s pulled up against the wall, chest covered in ice and chains, hands held up above his head, kicking and questioning but unable to break free or reach the ground. She adjusts the chains, ignoring his screams and questions and confusion and begging, until they’re as tight as she can make them, then she gags him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not preferable, it’s not perfect, but now he’s hers again. Locked away where no one else will find him, where she and she alone will be with him, no florist or princes or servants or mother to get in her way or steal him from her. She puts a hand on his cheek, says he’s disappointed her, that this is his punishment, that he’s going to stay here until she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s fateful, until she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> that no one will try to take her away from her, that she’s doing this because she loves him, because she doesn’t want to lose him. He’s crying, </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He deserves to cry, deserves to hurt, deserves to be chained and locked up. And she’s not letting him leave until he knows that too. She moves to leave, not listening to his muffled screams, and locks the door behind her. He’s HER’S, not anyone else’s, HER’S, and she’s going to keep it that way. She’s not letting another woman take away her prince. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She strolls down into the cellar, humming happily to herself, a bundle held in her hand swinging with her steps. She stops in front of the room, pushes away the barrels she placed there, just in case, and walks into her prince’s room. He’s where he always is, hanging on the wall. He doesn’t look up as she enters. He used to, he used to quickly stare at her, eyes bright and hopeful that today was the day she’d free him. Now he doesn’t move at all. She checks the chains, runs her hands over his chest and wrists, making sure there’s no cracks. His skin is stiff and cold, his fingertips blue, his hair overgrown and frosty, all the warmth in him long gone. She tilts his head up so he’ll look at her, once-golden eyes now a dull, broken brown staring through her. She smiles at him, tells him she brought him a surprise, and takes the food out of the bundle. She noticed yesterday that he was starting to look a bit thin, so she brought him a bit of food and water, as a treat. She removes the gag and he erupts into a hoarse coughing fit, taking in wheezing breaths as he’s finally able to move his jaw. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She holds the food up to his mouth and, after a moment’s hesitation, he eats it. As he eats, she tells him about her day, about her life, about how she’s doing and what’s happening in the castle. She conveniently forgets to mention the Helsoner and Borna prince staying in the castle, over for a “diplomatic visit” that’s been going on far too long for it to be genuine. He doesn’t say anything, just lets her talk. She can’t remember the last time she heard his voice. But it’s alright, she can talk enough for the both of them. Once he’s consumed the food and water, he lets his head fall back down. She puts his gag back in, tells him she loves him one more time, and leaves. She tightly closes the door behind her, pushes the barrels back in place, and heads back up to her room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>An hour later, everyone else in the castle wakes up and starts their day. She goes through her day as normal, doing her best to ignore the Borna and Helsoner princes as they watch her every move. They arrived a few months after word got out that the Subconion prince had gone “missing”. She’d acted absolutely distraught, sent out as many search parties as she could to find her poor poor prince, before finally giving into the undeniable fact that he was gone, probably eaten by something in the forest, and moving on. None of the other royals bought it, obviously convinced she’d done something to him. They were right of course, but she didn’t have to tell them that. For months now they’d been in the castle, searching for anything that could tell them about what </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> happened. It didn’t worry her, she knew for a fact they hadn’t found anything, and they were running out of excuses to stay. Sooner or later they’d have to go back home, sooner or later they’d give up and accept that the prince really was just gone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She gathers her court together in one of the meeting rooms for some reason or another. She’s not really paying attention, simply going forward on muscle memory and years of training and teaching. Running a country is much more boring without her prince by her side. Prince Logan ends up attending, glaring daggers at her the entire time. She wishes it was considered appropriate to flip off a visiting royal in the middle of a meeting. She’s sure his husband is off searching for evidence in one of the rooms, maybe going through her prince’s private chambers again just to see if they missed anything the first time. The meeting is dreadfully boring and she’s starting to consider flipping the Helsoner off to spice things up, etiquette be damned, when the doors slam open, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She can’t count the number of times she’s seen her prince cry or smile, can perhaps count on one hand the number of times she’s heard that loud laugh of his, but she thinks this may be the first time she’s ever seen him </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’s standing in the doorway, Prince Derek helping him stand, that dreaded servant girl holding open the doors for them, and he looks absolutely furious. For the first time in a year she sees something more than broken hopes in his eyes. His voice is quiet and small, easy to be lost in the constant noise of the world, but it’s steady. And as he speaks he gains courage, gets louder and louder until he’s screaming out his story for all to hear, telling everyone just what she did. She regrets not muting him when she had the chance. The ice in her chest sharpens as he talks, claiming that what she did to him was unfair, like it wasn’t the act of love that it truly was, spitting out lies painting her as the bad one when in reality if he had just done as he was told none of this would’ve happened.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She screams back. Screams that she only did it because she loved him, that he deserved it for breaking her heart, that she was just trying to make sure they’d be together forever and no one would come between them, that no one </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> come between them, that if he really loved her he would’ve understood that. The ice spikes and screams, frost covering the tables and chairs. She feels the ice thud and scream from inside her chest, feels as though she could tear apart the entire room, destroy the entire kingdom, tear her darling prince limb from limb, bone from bone, head from body. He tells the guards to restrain her and the ice grows. She snarls that he can believe whatever lies the others tell him, that he can deny it as much as he wants, but they both know he’ll be just as </span>
  <b>horrible</b>
  <span> and </span>
  <b>awful</b>
  <span> as she is if he casts her down to the dungeons. The guards approach and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> they won’t listen to her, the ice grows with her fury, higher and higher, sharper and sharper, and his vision fills with </span>
  <b>
    <em>red</em>
  </b>
  <span> as she screams:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>IF I CAN’T HAVE YOU NO ONE CAN!”</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And with that, she sends an icicle crashing through her prince’s chest. The entire room goes silent, stares with horror at the huge shard of ice now occupying his chest. He makes a quiet choking sound, eyes wide with horror, blood painting the ice red, dripping down to the floor, rising up his throat and coming out his mouth. The blood makes a wide arc on the floor around him, covering Prince Derek in blood and gore, as they were right next to him when it hit. She can see bone and flesh and bits of organs caught on the sharp edges of the icicle. She watches as his eyes dull and body goes limp. Someone starts screaming and the sound seems to spur everyone to action. The guards grab her, holding tightly onto her and clicking magic-restraining cuffs around her wrists. Prince Derek grabs the dying prince, breaking the ice and taking him into their blood-soaked arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Prince Logan screams for a medic, orders the borna to put down the body, grabs the servant girl and orders her to make a fire, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Prince Derek complies, gently putting him down with shaking hands. She watches as they melt the ice, as Prince Derek struggles to stop the bleeding with their sleeves, as Prince Logan once again screams for a medic. Watches the blood spread, watches his eyes dull and fade, watches his breathing stop, watches his body stop moving. Watches as they try desperately to stop an inevitable end. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thea is dead...and she killed him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Her prince is alive. She doesn’t know how he survived. The ice completely tore apart his chest, left a giant hole in his body, should’ve destroyed his spine, most of his organs, living though it should’ve been impossible. And yet, he’s alive. She can tell from the whispers of the guards, little rumors that she can hear from her cell. Bed-ridden and bandaged, wheezing and struggling, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She’s not sure if she should be happy or disappointed. She remembers how he looked on the floor, everything covered in blood and dripping, empty eyes and blood-stained lips, shards of red ice stuck in his torso. Remembers how quiet he was, how he didn’t scream or even speak, no gasping or sobs, just a crack as it broke through his chest, just a quiet choking escaping from his frost-filled throat, barely heard over the screaming and chaos. She shifts, sets her gaze into the damp, stone walls outside of her cage, and waits.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Months later, he visits. She knew he would, knows him too well to think he wouldn’t, so it’s no surprise when she hears soft, unsteady footsteps slowly heading towards her cell. She can’t help but smile when she catches sight of him. He looks horrible, weak and small, like a simple breeze could knock him down. His eyes are tired and dulled, a blanket placed around his shoulders, a thin shirt doing a horrible job at hiding the bandages wrapped firmly around his chest. When he sees her, his face fills with regret, he looks like he wants to leave, to pretend he never came down here and never come back. He keeps moving forward, stops in front of her cell. She greets him. He sits down. A moment passes, before he starts speaking. He has questions, lots of them, says if she doesn’t answer them he’ll leave. They both know he’s lying. He takes a deep breath and starts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Why did you lock me up in the cellar?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She saw him with the florist, saw him giving her a flower, saw him laughing with her, saw him talking to her. What else was she supposed to think? She was upset, heartbroken, she wanted to make sure he wasn’t cheating on him, wanted to test his devotion to her. Could he really blame her?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Why did you try to kill me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She….didn’t mean to. She was upset, lost in the moment, losing control of her ice, she didn’t realize what she was doing until it was too late. She didn’t mean to hurt him, was just as horrified and surprised as everyone else. She’s sorry, she didn’t mean to, he just upset her so much, she lost control.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Do….do you regret it?</span>
  </em>
  <span> No, she doesn’t regret loving him, doesn’t regret wanting him to be hers. She only wishes things had gone a bit better, that he hadn’t left the castle that day, that if he had warned her about his….”friend” perhaps things would’ve turned out better. She’s sorry things went so wrong but he could’ve prevented all of this if he had just told her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>They- they say that you hurt me-</span>
  </em>
  <span> She can’t help but laugh at that. Tells him that they lied, she never hurt him. Anything she did to him, she did out of love, and can it really be called hurtful if it’s done out of love? She never abused him, never did anything unfair or unjust. Everything she did, she did out of love. She just wanted what was best for him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>But- but you hurt me, you froze me and yelled at me and-</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’s only remembering the bad things, the small things that went wrong. If she hurt him, she didn’t mean to. She froze him because she was upset, because he made her mad. She yelled because she didn’t want another to steal him from her, to break up their relationship, to destroy what they had. She never hurt him, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>But-</span>
  </em>
  <span> Let’s say she is hurtful. Let’s say she is abusive. Let’s say she is horrible and wicked and all the things they say she is. Then doesn’t that make him just as horrible as she is?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>...What?</span>
  </em>
  <span> They say that she’s horrible and wicked for locking him up, for chaining him like some animal. Well, which one of them is in chains now?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>That’s different-</span>
  </em>
  <span> How? She chained him up to protect him, he chained her up to “protect” himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>You tried to kill me, you might have hurt someone else-</span>
  </em>
  <span> She didn’t mean to hurt him, she didn’t want to kill him, but he forced her hand. She would never have had to hurt anyone if he had just listened. He’s just as bad as she is.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>……...They say-</span>
  </em>
  <span> They’re lying to you, they want you to feel better, they want you to feel like you’re in the right. They want to lock me up and keep me locked up and rob you of all your happiness. If you really believed what they tell you, would you be here talking to me?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>…</span>
  </em>
  <span> Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> you here, my prince?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>……..Because I missed you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I missed you too. And doesn’t that prove that they’re lying? That they just want to hurt you? If I had really hurt you, would you have missed me? Wouldn’t you have been glad to get rid of me? Happy that this horrible person in your life is gone?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>…….I…..I don’t know.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s alright, don’t cry. I’ll help you, I’ll tell you the truth, I’ll tell you what’s right and wrong. I won’t lie to you my dear.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The meetings start off slow, only happening once every few weeks, but as time goes on they increase. Getting closer and closer together until finally he’s visiting her every night. He tells her what lies they fed to him and she sets him right. Some nights he tries to leave, announces that this is the last meeting and he’s never coming back. And to his credit, he does stay away for a few nights, manages to keep his distance for a little while. But he comes back. He always comes back in the end. And she loves him for it. They can take away her kingdom, take away her room and her things and her life. But they can’t take away her prince. Not if he has anything to say about it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She hums to herself, tracing patterns in her cuffs as she waits for him to arrive. She’s been looking forward to this meeting all day, she always looks forward to them. They’re really the highlight of her now dull life, seeing her prince’s face and hearing his voice, even if he always looks so tired and sounds so sad. She turns her head to the hallway, where she knows the staircase comes down, where he always comes from. Listening for his soft footsteps, watching for a glimpse of his freckled face or golden eyes. She waits for the entire night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>No one comes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She leans her body against the bars, watching and waiting for a glimpse of him. He hasn’t visited for weeks, she’s sure it’s because someone caught him. They’ve probably locked him in his room, waiting until they think he’s “fixed”. Then he’ll come back. She simply has to wait. She presses herself closer to the bars, listening for footsteps, a cough, a flame, anything that might be him. She waits for the entire night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>No one comes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She stares up at the ceiling, listening to the constant drip of the water, hoping for the one sound that refuses to come. It’s been months and she hasn’t gotten so much as a whisper. No footsteps, no blanket dragged against stone, no bright freckled face. Just her, the cuffs, and the water. She wonders what lies they told him to make him stay, what half-formed truths they’ve taught him. She’ll have a lot to fix </span>
  <span>if</span>
  <span> when he comes back. She imagines hearing his footsteps coming down the staircase, imagines seeing his face pop in view of her cell. Imagines him telling her that he’s realized she’s right, she really did do nothing wrong, it really was a mistake. Imagines him freeing her, imagines him taking her back, imagines him being hers again. She waits the entire night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>No one comes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He’s not coming.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She glares down at the cuffs trapping her ice, trapping </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Her prince has forsaken her, there’s no knight in shining armor coming for her. There’s no reason to stay. She can feel her ice shifting angrily in her chest, threatening to tear her to shreds just like she destroyed her love. She feeds its anger, pushes it down out of her chest and into her arms, into her wrists. She feels the ice shift under her skin, feels the frost move where she directs it. She waits until it's settled in her hands, until she can feel it prickling in her fingers. Then she pushes it out. The cuffs resist, push it back, but her ice grows from anger, and she has lots of anger to give. An unstoppable force against a failing object. The cuffs glow and scream, sends pain racking through her body, forces screams out of her throat. It only feeds the ice. They falter, sputter out for just a moment, it’s enough. The ice bursts out of her, growing off of the cuffs, spreading frost and blue over the enchanted metal. The cuffs creak and groan and </span>
  <em>
    <span>snap</span>
  </em>
  <span>, falling off her wrists with a loud clatter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The ice eagerly spreads out from her skin, filling the cell, growing past the bars, happy to be free. She leaves her cell, easily breaking through the metal bars. A pair of guards run into the hallway, clearly alerted by the noise. They’re armed, but she has an infinite supply of ice and all it takes is a single touch for them to be nothing more than statues. She takes a few cuts in the encounter, but nothing major, nothing that can slow her down. She leaves the dungeons, leaves the castle all together. Makes sure no one sees her, or at least makes sure that anyone who sees her doesn’t live to tell the tale. Killing’s easy once you’ve grown accustomed to it. She continues, making sure to melt any ice she makes as to not leave a trail, and doesn’t stop until she reaches the edge of the forest. She looks up at the canopy of trees, taller than the castle itself, a huge sea of leaves and branches. The trees are so big and dense that they block out the sun, plunging the path forward into darkness. Making it nearly impossible to see what’s ahead of you, making it nearly impossible to see what’s hunting you. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She knows how dangerous the forest is. Even mother knew to fear it, as disbelieving in the spirits as she was. She knows what happens to humans who wander in, knows what could happen to her, knows that she could be slathered...or worse. But there’s nowhere else to go, nothing left for her, no </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> left for her. So she continues. Leaves and twigs snap under her feet as she walks, stumbling over roots and pushing past trees. She can barely see what’s in front of her, squinting in the darkness. She can hear other creatures moving about, beings that are much bigger and more dangerous than she could ever hope to be. She can hear their footsteps, hear them moving through the trees, hear them whispering to each other. She keeps moving, trying to make her steps quieter as not to be heard. She doesn’t know where she’s going, she didn’t exactly have a designation in mind when she broke out of her cell, she just knows she needs to get away. So she goes on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She doesn’t stop until she finds a break in the trees, a small area where sunlight can peak through. Her feet ache, her head feels scattered and….odd from the darkness….or….perhaps that’s something else. The light hurts her eyes and there’s a broken whisper in the back of her mind telling her to </span>
  <b>get away</b>
  <span>. She moves on, doing her best to ignore the whisper, and sits down in the patch of light, giving herself a moment to rest. She rubs her eyes, notices something on her hands, tries to rub it off and…..oh, her fingertips have turned black. She mutely stares at her hands, watching as the black slowly makes its way up her fingers, onto her palm. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The right thing to do now would be to kill herself, it’s what mother always told her to do in the case of corruption, what every tutor and teacher who schooled her on the subject of the forest told her. But she’s never really listened to mother and she’s not about to start now. She knows what most know about corruption. Which is, to say, not much. She knows what it does to people, that it warps their bodies and makes them into monsters, that it makes them drag others deeper into the forest so the corruption can take them too. She knows that no one knows how to cure it, that the only way to “fix” a corruption is to put it down. She knows that the first sign of corruption is discolored fingertips. It’s spreading onto her arms now and there’s an itch in the back of her mind, like something’s trying to claw its way into her brain. The urge to wander back into the darkness and get away from the light grows stronger. Her body trembles as she struggles to stay in the sunlight for just a little bit longer. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She feels the ice in her chest growing without her permission, watches as it spreads out of her shaking hands, covering the grass with frost. The black’s moving much faster now, quickly covering her arms and starting on her chest. Her skin itches horribly, like there’s something under it trying to fight its way out, and she can’t stop herself from scratching and tearing into it, her quickly growing ice covering it too. Her head aches, she feels like she’s been run over by a horse, it’s hard to focus on anything but the constant itch and the whispering steadily getting louder and louder and </span>
  <b>louder</b>
  <span>. She feels like her insides are freezing over, like the ice has had enough of her chest, has had enough of </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and wants freedom. The light hurts horribly, worsening her headache, but she’s in too much pain to move. The ice has completely covered her patch of sunlight, spiking towards the sky as if trying to help block out the sun, growing over her arms and towards her face. There’s a loud crack, a wrench in her chest, as if something has been pulled free. Her hands break, the bones falling apart, the skin failing. Her screams shake the trees.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p><span>She’s cold. Ice follows her footsteps, frost spreads from her mangled claws. She’s cold, but she remembers what it felt like to be warm. Warm hurts now, sends her body screaming and her ice rising, makes her burn and scream and ache. But she remembers when it didn’t hurt, when it was a nice reprise from the constant chill, when he would hold her and warm her and things felt perfect. She remembers bright golden eyes, a warm smile, a firm hug. She remembers him being stolen from her. She wants him back, her skin itches with the need to have him be </span><em><span>hers</span></em><span> again, h</span><b>er mind busy with thoughts of where he could be and who he could be talking to anD HOW HE ISN’T WITH HER, </b><b><em>WHY ISN’T HE WITH HER-</em></b> <span>She wants to hold him, to have him to be hers and hers alone, to rip and tear and claw his fire out of his chest until he’s cold and empty and </span><em><span>perfect</span></em><span>. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She heads towards the castle, where he’s waiting. By the time she reaches it the sun has set, only small traces of its light left in the star-filled sky. The castle gates are well guarded but when you can turn a person into nothing more than ice with a single touch or attack, and when all cower and scream and panic at the very sight of you, guards are nothing more than a nuisance. She freezes and fights her way into the castle, killing any poor soul who has the unfortunate fate of catching a glimpse of her. There are guards in the halls too and while a few try to attack, most make a run for it (only to be stabbed with her ice a moment later) or are turned into statues before they can so much as scream. She kills the guards protecting his room and, carefully, quietly, enters.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He’s fast asleep in bed when she enters, breaths slow and steady, back turned towards her. She softly steps towards him, not stopping until she can see his face. The sight is so familiar, so peaceful, that for a moment she imagines a time where things were perfect. Where she could gently shake him awake and he’d see her and smile, he’d pull her down into bed and kiss her and ask what took her so long, she’d laugh and apologise and he’d just pull her into a hug and hold her and tell her he loves her and will never ever leave her. And they’d fall asleep like that. And things would be perfect. But things aren’t perfect. If she wakes him up he won’t smile, he’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>scream</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he’ll stare in horror and run because those monsters filled his head with lies about her, told him s</span>
  <b>he was horrible and wicked and wanted to hurt him and never loved him, but she DID love him, she loved him so much it hurt, sHE JUST WANTED HIM TO BE HERS, SHE JUST WANTED HIM TO STAY, HE’S SUPPOSED TO STAY, </b>
  <b>
    <em>WHY DIDN’T HE STAY</em>
  </b>
  <b>-</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She reaches towards him, gently picks him up, holds him close to her body and starts to leave. He mumbles and shifts, eyes barely opening before failing closed again. Then the frost starts to spread over his skin, then his eyes snap open and he sees her and scrambles out of her arms. She quickly grabs him, slamming him into the wall, ice covering his throat. He stares at her with mute horror, feet kicking and hands scrambling to free himself. She tightens her grip, starts to ramble about how she finally found him and how she knows they lied to him and made him hate her but it’s ok she’ll fix him, she’ll tell him the truth and make him love her again and they’ll be happy and together and live happily ever after and everything will be </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He doesn’t answer, too busy choking, but that doesn’t bother her. She doesn’t want to hear his response anyways, not until the lies are cleansed from his mind. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He’s so close to passing out, so close to being hers again. But then the shadows ruin it, they reach out and take him away and she can only watch as he’s pulled back where she cannot reach. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams</span>
  </em>
  <span>, tries to grab him and pull him back out. He jerks away from her, father into the shadows, and teleports. She punches the wall, watches as ice spikes out from it in her rage. He’s gone...but he has to be somewhere in the castle, has to be hiding somewhere. So she goes out to find him. She walks through the halls, calling his name, asking him to come out, listening for any signs of him. The words feel odd and strange on her tongue, coming out half-formed. She’s almost at the exit, hoping he hasn’t managed to truly escape, when she hears a clatter inside one of the rooms. She quickly slams open the door, makes a slow scan of the room. She doesn’t see anything but as she walks past a table she hears movement and then footsteps running away. In an instant, she’s turned and slammed him into the wall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He screams, tries to kick her away, she feels the shadows pulling at her feet, trying to make her let go. She slams him into the wall. He’s still moving, so she does it again and again and again. Until blood’s covering the wall, until he’s limp and still. She freezes his limbs together, throws him over her shoulder, and leaves. The walk back to the forest is slow but steady, no one tries to get in their way, everyone either dead or hiding. They’re well into the forest when she hears him wake up, hears his panic and screams and attempts to get away. She sighs, slightly annoyed, before slamming his head into a nearby tree. He goes back to sleep and she continues on her way, humming to herself as she carries her prince into the forest. Leaving a trail of ice and blood behind her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He’s corrupted. It didn’t take long, the purple forming on his fingertips just a few minutes after he woke. His screams and pleas for help echo through the trees, getting louder and more desperate when he finally notices purple growing up his arms. He kicks at the ice holding him to the tree, tries to melt it. She’s quick to foil any escape attempts, watching as the purple gets farther and farther up his body. He stops screaming when it reaches his throat, voice and movements dying down, breathing ragged and wheezing. He coughs, liquid fire dripping out of his mouth, dripping down onto the ice and burning his lips. His pupils disappear into the gold of his eyes and his iris grow and grow until his eyes are nothing but bright glowing gold. The coughing worsens as he hacks up more fire. The purple starts on his hair, grows onto his cheeks, and then his jaw snaps.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>It’s a simple snap, nice and clean, leaving his mouth hanging open. His screams are blood-curdling. His body lurches and shakes as the corruption reforms it. His flesh and muscles tear, spilling golden blood, his bones snap and shatter. Golden tears leak out of his eyes, she can see him trying to move, trying to curl up, trying to somehow escape the pain, but the ice holds him in place. His hands break and twist as they reform into claws, legs breaking and moving to give themselves a more canine-like shape. His body grows, getting bigger and taller, and the ice shatters from the pressure. He falls down onto the forest floor, torn remains of his clothes hanging off of his body, claws digging into the earth as the pain racks his body, fire still dripping out of his mouth. His face shifts and warps, mouth and jaw elongating into a snout, eye sockets growing in size until they match the rest of his body. Purple fluff breaks out around his neck and chest, his now-purple hair grows and grows until it’s down to his back. The fur quickly covers the rest of his shaking form, making him look dog-like and fluffy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She lets him lay on the ground for a moment, watching his body tremble and his tears pool, before she grabs his arm and freezes him to the tree again, ignoring his flinch and gasps of pain as she jerks him up. She leaves him there, shaking and limb and wheezing, and he doesn’t move for hours. She thought he’d be easier to deal with as a corruption, easier to fix with his memories gone and his mind blank. She’s wrong. Her prince hates her as a corruption, growls at her whenever she gets anywhere within view, bites her if she gets too close to him, gnaws on the ice in an attempt to break free. She yells at him, freezes even more of his body, makes frost grow on his fur, makes him bleed. None of it works. He still hates her, he still tries to free himself, he still tries to burn. He bites her and makes her bleed, she screams and slaps him and sends ice through his arm, he yelps….and a few moments later tries to bite her again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>They’ve been in the forest for over a week when she hears it. A footstep, a cracking branch, like someone’s trying to sneak up on her. But when she whips around, prepared to tear apart whatever’s there, she doesn’t see anything. It drives her mad, has her pacing and muttering, has her ice spiking and hissing. There’s another crash nearby, a loud one this time. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams</span>
  </em>
  <span> angry and tired of whatever this thing is, ice spiking and rising with her anger. Something wraps around her ankles, drags her away and throws her into a river. She howls with rage, rips the thing, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>vine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, off of her. She runs back to where her prince is, freezing any vines that try to stop her as she goes. When she gets back to the tree, her prince is gone. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams</span>
  </em>
  <span>, screeches with fury, her voice shaking the trees. He’s </span>
  <b>gone</b>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Everytime she thinks he has him to herself he leaves or he’s taken, w</span>
  <b>hy can’t he just stay, why can’t everyone just leave them alone, THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO BE TOGETHER, THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO BELONG TO EACH OTHER AND ONLY EACH OTHER, THERE’S NO ROOM FOR ANYONE ELSE, WHY CAN’T THEY JUST LET HIM STAY, WHY CAN’T THEY JUST LET HER KEEP HIM, HE’S HER’S, HE’S HER’S,</b>
  <b>
    <em> HE’S HER’S-</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She races after him, following his tracks, his footprints. She finds them near the edge of the forest, her corrupted prince and- and </span>
  <b>
    <em>her</em>
  </b>
  <span>. She doesn’t remember the girl, but she fills with pure </span>
  <em>
    <span>rage</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the very sight of her, at the sight of her stupid red hair and blue dress and that idotic little flower in her hair, sh</span>
  <b>e bets that’s the same flower her prince gave her when she STOLE HIM, that BITCH doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near her prince much less try to steal him she always tries to steal him whY CAN’T YOU JUST SHUT UP AND DIE </b>
  <b>CAMILA</b>
  <b>!</b>
  <span> She screams, fists clenched, body shaking, teeth snarling. Her vision fills with red r</span>
  <b>ed RED</b>
  <span> as she send shards of ice towards the girl, wanting to cut her to shreds, wanting to tear that stupid flower out of her hair and </span>
  <b>stomp it into the ground</b>
  <span>. The girl dodges the ice, uses her annoying little vines to pull </span>
  <b>
    <em>her</em>
  </b>
  <span> prince away so he doesn’t get hit. Raises giant roots and vines out from the ground, spilling soil everywhere. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She sends another barrage of ice at the girl. Freezes all the plants around her so they’re useless to the caster. The girl raises the ground itself to block the ice. She slams her roots and vines down onto her. She creates a wall of ice to protect herself. She doesn’t notice the vine slipping around her leg until it’s pulling her away. It slams her into a tree, then into the ground. Back and forth, again and again. She twists around and manages to grab the vine. Quickly freezes it. Falls to the ground. The trees twist and reach towards her. The grass rises and tries to trap her feet. She screams. Freezes it all. It starts to snow. The wind howls in her ears. The ground shakes again as the nature caster reforms her vines, attempting to crush her with the plant mass again. She sends her ice racing across the ground before she can. Sending it under the girl’s feet and ordering it to </span>
  <em>
    <span>freeze</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The girl jumps before it has a chance. Uses her vines to break it. While she’s distracted, she darts towards her. Grabs the girl by the arm, hard enough to make her bleed. Freezes her arm. The girl uses the grass and vines to force her away from her. Doesn’t notice the new wave of ice until it's too late, until she’s fallen down onto the ground. The corruption quickly freezes the ground around her. Trapping her in the ice. Sending an icicle slicing through her leg. Delighting in the girl’s scream of pain. She walks towards the girl as her ice incases her arms. No more plants to save her. She wants this to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to tear flower girl limb from limb, like plucking off pedals. She wants to hear her dying screams gurgling in her throat as her eyes glaze over, wants her blood to paint the snow red, w</span>
  <b>ants to take her decapitated head and stake it in front of the forest as a warning to anyone who ever tries to take </b>
  <b>
    <em>her prince</em>
  </b>
  <b> away from her, he’s </b>
  <b>
    <em>hers</em>
  </b>
  <b> he’s supposed to be with </b>
  <b>
    <em>her</em>
  </b>
  <b>, wHY CAN’T PEOPLE JUST UNDERSTAND THAT?!</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>She steps towards the girl, calculating the best and most painful way to slowly peel her skin off, when the ground beneath her lights up. A giant purple circle with her in the middle, almost a target. That’s the only warning she gets before her world explodes into light. A cacophony of colors bursts throughout her, tearing through her body, deafening her screams, filling her vision with nothing but pure light. Pain racks her entire body. She can feel her body disintegrating into nothing. She thinks she might hear another screaming, but she can’t tell over the blaring shriek in her ears. The light bursts through her skull, shattering her body into nothing more than dust, finally dying down to reveal nothing, not a single trace of the once-queen. Vanessa is dead.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once Upon A Time</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a prince and a queen who loved each other very much</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the </span>
  <em>
    <span>others</span>
  </em>
  <span> who saw their love became jealous</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And took the prince away</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They locked up the queen for mistreating the prince</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even though she could never do such a thing to her love</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luckily,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even jail couldn’t keep the prince from visiting his love</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And so he visited her every night</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the queen was happy</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until One Day,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her prince stopped coming</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So the queen left the jail to find him</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And </span>
  <em>
    <span>make</span>
  </em>
  <span> him come back</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She found her prince</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the ones who had stolen him from her</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She killed the others</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turned their bodies into ice that she broke into tiny, tiny shards</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until their forms were no more</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And took back her prince</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her prince was hers again</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the queen did not live happily ever after</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because the dragon had been </span>
  <b>right</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The End</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>